This Is Why We'll Always Make It
by ohponthavemercy
Summary: Enjolras has a habit of reading in bed. Fluffy Enjonine oneshot.


**note: I really don't know what this is, I just wanted some fluff. And blanket-hogging. Inspired vaguely by Stars' "My Favourite Book". Also I really didn't know what to title it. /shrugs**

"What 'cha reading?" she asked, crawling into bed.

The glow of the lamp on his nightstand was the only spot of brightness in the room. He was lying on his stomach in one of his rare lounging moments, golden hair tousled and sticking up in loops and curls that made her fingers itch with the longing to smooth it down, long darker blond eyelashes casting shadows on his face as he turned the pages. "A book."

She rolled her eyes. Apparently this was a habit of his, reading in bed often. At first she thought it was sort of cute, how a collection of books started stacking up haphazardly on his nightstand, but today it was just annoying.

"I can see that," Eponine replied dryly, wriggling so her shoulder bumped his. She adjusted the straps of her camisole. "Is it any good?"

He didn't even glance up at her. "I have to do an essay on it for British Lit. Not so bad though," Enjolras mused, regarding the book thoughtfully.

She leaned in closer, curious. "Would I like it?"

"You can borrow it after I read it if you'd like," he offered shortly, before lapsing into silence again.

Eponine rolled back to her side of the bed and read for a bit, flipping through her beat-up copy of_Neverwhere_, which she had read at least a hundred times already. Today, however, she couldn't find herself focusing on the Marquis de Carabas' arrogant flair or the evils of the fallen angel Islington. Enjolras, however, seemed just as concentrated as always, his brow scrunched in thought.

"Stop fidgeting, Ep," he grumbled, turning a crisp page.

She bounced on the mattress deliberately, trying to elicit some sort of response, but nothing happened. Eponine narrowed her eyes briefly before squirming over on her stomach. "You haven't moved an inch since you started that book," she observed, caught between amusement and mild irritation.

"I told you," he replied, eyes scanning down the words, "I have to read it for class."

She laughed, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Nobody pays that much attention to a book they have to read for an elective class, Enjolras."

He noticeably repressed a shiver as her fingers shifted to trace wide, swooping circles on his shoulder blades. "Cut it out."

She moved closer, skimming her nose against his jaw, hot breath teasingly ghosting over his skin. Her fingers slowed as they reached the dip in his spine. "Really now," she drawled, trailing her foot up his calf almost lazily, lifting up the leg of his sweatpants as he suddenly froze, "you'd think it was even more interesting than _me._" She scraped her teeth very deliberately over his pulse point.

The book thudded to the floor as she was suddenly flipped over, a strong hand encircling her two wrists and pinning them up on the mattress above them and another trying desperately to still her hips. "Goddamnit, _Eponine_," Enjolras groaned shakily, "my essay – "

She rolled her hips before arching up to drag her mouth across his neck, sinking her teeth into his collarbone and following with her tongue. "What was that you were saying?" she purred, as his head tipped back. "You don't sound too sure there."

His gaze when he brought it back to her was almost predatory, barely a sliver of darkened blue around lust-dilated pupils. "You want me to show you how sure I am, baby?" He growled, before his mouth came crashing down on hers, books and essays forgotten.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, dappling the sheets with light in the morning. She blinked sleep from her eyes, registering a golden back in front of her.

Eponine curled up and skated cold toes across his skin, snickering at the soft yelp of surprise this elicited.

"First you distract me from my reading, and now you wake me up," Enjolras groused, flipping over and eyeing her cocoon with mock-consternation. "Blanket hog, too."

She giggled, lifting up the corner of her blanket. "Come on in then."

He inched over obligingly, ducking under the covers. Warm arms came to wrap around her waist snugly. "Much better."

She hummed against his bare chest, drowsily content and about to drift back to sleep when he spoke up again.

"You know what?" Long fingers fiddled with her hair.

"What?" she yawned.

He planted a swift kiss on the top of her head. "You're _my_ favorite book."


End file.
